


We Are The Worst

by apuppynamedliam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Grindr, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apuppynamedliam/pseuds/apuppynamedliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Liam and Zayn meet up on Grindr and screw it up the first time. Niall wants to rectify that.</b><br/><i>Excerpt:</i><br/>If things were ideal, Liam would've walked out of that apartment a happy ex-virgin. But much like many guys who've experienced their very first and very real casual fuck, he ended his night with a walk of shame. Liam, though, was convinced that his was more shameful than the rest. The guy’s scent had marked him like a bad tattoo—the lines of which were made of musk, sweat, and cigarettes. He felt the red bloom across his face as soon as he remembered how the guy forcefully tried to stifle a laugh after Liam had... finished, how he grimaced when Liam completely forgot the very first rule of giving head, and how he probably thought Liam was the lamest lay ever. If all hookups ended the way they just did, Liam did not want a repeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zayn

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to rewrite the first two parts of this story since I wasn't satisfied with the way I worded them the first time. I also added some details I left out when I first hit publish.
> 
> Again, I'll be posting this in parts. I'm thinking four... maybe more? They won't all be in linear order so I apologize for the possible confusion in advance. It starts with Ziam but you'll get all the pairings I pledged on the tags soon enough. Oh, and it's a bit smutty. Don't expect much "feels" or plot. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Cheers! :)

A ding on his phone had Zayn grinning from ear to ear. It took a while, but the photo was there. It wasn’t that often he had to coax someone for about an hour to send him something racy. He wasn’t one to brag, but Grindr guys normally sent him their dick pics even without any provocation on his part. In all modesty, Zayn knew his profile pic looked good enough to get guys thirsting for him. It made hookups easy, so easy that it bored him to the point of deleting the app for the nth time. But that night, he was alone, horny, and looking to be amused.

Most of what he saw, he’d seen before—torsos he’d touched, lips he’d tasted, skin he’d slicked up with his cum. Zayn was buzzing for something new, like an innocent face, one that belonged to a guy with a sweet smile and crinkled eyes. It was refreshing to him how the said guy, Jim, didn’t just cross over to sexual territory after his first “Sup?” He also didn’t seem to be one of those guys who fell madly in love with random strangers after a few minutes of chatting. Oddly, Jim felt more like the best mate he never had. By the way he rattled on about comics and other stuff he also found cool, Zayn knew they’d get along.

Zayn took it as a bonus then that Jim also had a banging body. He stared at the chiseled torso on his phone. A thick dusting of brown hair covered what looked like a hardened chest and the prominent ridges that lined his stomach. What made his mouth water, though, was the unmistakable bulge struggling to rip apart the fabric of Jim’s black boxers.

"Wanna cum over?" Zayn punched down his address in haste.

 

A knock on the door made Zayn's heart skip a beat. It had been weeks since his last hookup, but that wasn’t the reason for his nerves. There was something about this guy that got him flustered. Jim was different, or at least he hoped he was. He remembered a time he met up with another Grindr guy who was absolutely nothing like his profile. Instead of getting a smooth and beefy brown man, he came face-to-face with a frail guy with bad acne and an even worse case of halitosis. His growing doubts subsided once he finally opened the door and saw Jim standing there.

He was a bit taller than Zayn, and meatier judging by the bulk of his arms that stretched out the green fabric of his hoodie. He looked exactly like his profile photo. The smile was there, tinged with a bit of unease but still sweet. Zayn wondered how those lips would feel on his.

“No Batman?” Zayn asked, making the guy blush.

“Uhh, did you want Batman?”

Zayn couldn’t help but laugh, “Nah. Green suits you. Come in."

"Thanks, mate," Jim smiled sheepishly.

From up close, Zayn could almost trace his strong jawline. He looked rugged, a contrast to those puppy-dog eyes that, for some reason, kept shying away from making contact with Zayn’s. Bashfulness wasn’t Zayn’s most favorite trait on a guy, but on Jim, it was sexy. He offered him a seat and a beer, both seeming to put the guy at ease.

"Nice place you got," Jim said, taking a swig of the cold ale.

"Yeah. It's mine and me mate's."

Jim nodded, taking another swig. It was then that Zayn noticed him trembling a bit.

"Is this your first time?" Zayn asked.

"What? No," Jim laughed. "What makes you ask that?"

"Nothing," Zayn smiled, taking the bottle out of Jim's hand before straddling him on the couch, his knees ending up on either side of the guy's torso. Zayn took his own sip of Jim’s beer before setting the bottle aside. He could feel the guy's heartbeat as Zayn leaned in for a—"Ow!"

"Sorry," Zayn laughed, rubbing his own forehead from the impact. They tried it again, Zayn's lips finally connecting with Jim's without mishap. The guy’s lips were soft and full and perfect, and his tongue was, well, it was all over the place, wagging excitedly in Zayn’s mouth. And his teeth were no different, recklessly clashing against Zayn’s.

"Wait," Zayn said with laugh, slightly parting his lips from Jim’s. "Try to do it slower, yeah? Let me," he said, languidly leaning in.

There was a soft touch of lips once, twice, until they found a rhythm. Zayn's tongue slipped in to find Jim’s, grazing it gently, letting them slide against each other until they could no longer tell whose was whose. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation, so hot he almost had to rip Jim's hoodie off him, revealing the body he previously saw on screen. Having it in the flesh was way better, so much so that his lips had to explore it, licking the nubs on his chest, the thick trail of hair on his navel, the mound of hard muscle hiding behind a pair of tight ripped jeans. Jim could not contain his moans, flipping on a switch that made Zayn go feral. After some momentary struggle to get all that denim off, he took Jim's cock in his mouth, stuffing as much as he could with gusto.

"Fuck," Jim said as Zayn's tongue did its magic. "Fuck," he moaned again.

"Shit! Sorry! Don't mind me! Invisible roommate coming through!"

Zayn almost choked as he pulled off Jim’s dick with a pop. "Tomlinson!" he yelled coarsely.

"I'm sorry! I'll be out in a jiff!" he heard from the other room.

Zayn mouthed an apology as he looked at Jim, whose face and body had turned several shades of pink. He could feel Jim's dick lose a bit of its weight in his hand, which was never good as far as hookups were concerned.

"Found it!" he heard his flatmate yell before coming out of the room with a long string of condoms. "Never leave home without them, kids!" he said before walking out and slamming the door in a rush.

"Again, I am very, very sorry for that," Zayn said, as he watched Jim deflate on the couch. "He's a total wanker."

"It's fine," Jim mumbled, cheeks still flushed from embarrassment.

"You want to move to my room?" Zayn offered.

"Please."

 

The path to Zayn's room was paved with torrid kisses. Jim had thrown off Zayn's shirt on the floor, followed by his belt, and then unzipping his fly, and then—"Fu—ow!"

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Are you alright?" Jim inspected what looked like blood dripping from Zayn's nose.

Zayn felt woozy, having tripped backwards and hitting the post at the foot of his own bed. It served him right for not looking where they were headed. He felt the sting on the ridge of his nose as more blood threatened to seep out. "Fuck," Zayn muttered, looking up as if that would clog the flow.

"I'll get you some ice," he heard Jim say before the guy bolted out of the room.

Zayn inspected himself in the mirror once the bleeding had stopped. It didn't look that bad, just a small bump on his nose that he'd have to get checked in the morning. He turned off the tap after washing his face and walked back to the bedroom. Jim looked unsure of himself, shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed with his boxers on, worried eyes trained on Zayn’s face. 

"I'm really sorry about that," he muttered meekly.

"It’s fine. Wasn’t your fault," Zayn said as he walked over, standing in between Jim’s legs. He felt the tension ease out of Jim’s body as his hands found their way on his bare shoulders. Gently, Zayn ran his thumbs on the guy’s skin, tracing circles on the soft spot between his collarbones and neck, kneading softly into a steady massage. Zayn felt Jim’s hot breath on the skin of his stomach when the guy exhaled in relief. 

“Now, where were we?” Zayn smiled, pushing Jim back until he was flat on the bed. Zayn climbed on top of him, pressing their lips togeth—"Ah!"

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Zayn said as he carefully leaned in for another kiss, mindful of his nose this time around. They ended up like that for a while, soft kisses that quickly turned filthy, with Jim’s fingers gripping his ass, moans escaping from his own lips. Zayn felt himself moving as Jim sat up, giving Zayn the best position to straddle him. He felt the guy's strong arms hold him in place as Jim started nibbling at his chest, sucking on his nipple, making him giggle uncontrollably. 

"Wait, stop," Zayn said in between laughs. "Sorry. I'm not usually ticklish there," he paused, "That's never happened before."

"Do you want me to stop?" Jim asked, his puppy dog eyes on Zayn's.

"Uh, why don't I get you hard so you can fuck me? Okay?"

Zayn got off him quickly and fished out a condom and lube from his bedside drawer. It didn't take long before he got Jim moaning and rock hard in his mouth. He slid the rubber on and slowly impaled himself on the guy, electricity flicking through his body. It wasn't every day he got to ride something that hefty.

"Fuck," Zayn heard themselves say in unison.

"Wait a sec, yeah?" Zayn said, getting used to Jim’s girth before trying to move up his shaft. Zayn tried shifting his body when Jim started shuddering and muttering gibberish in his ear without preamble. It then clicked in Zayn’s head when he felt the guy’s cock pulsing inside him.

"Did you just?"

Jim just buried his face in Zayn's neck. "Sorry."

“You—” Zayn couldn’t stop himself from giggling as he dismounted from him, deciding to lie down beside Jim as the guy got his bearings back. Zayn watched him dispose of the condom and walk back towards him as he himself calmed down from his laughing fit.

“I’m sorry,” Jim apologized for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

Zayn only smiled at him as he sat up from the bed, running his hands on the guy’s torso. Jim’s body was still amazing, hard and toned and covered in fuzz and sweat.

"Want me to?" he heard Jim offer.

"Yeah," Zayn nodded as he watched the guy kneel before him. He was beautiful like that. Those eyes focused on Zayn’s cock in front of him. Lips shiny and plump from all the hungry kisses they shared throughout the night. Zayn kept stroking himself in a steady pace until Jim took over with his own slick palm.

It took a bit of time before Zayn finally felt the guy's warm tongue swipe little kitten licks on the underside of his shaft. He was getting impatient. "Suck it."

Jim didn’t seem to comprehend those words as he continued stroking and licking.

“Come on. Suck my cock.”

Zayn instantly regretted those words once the sharp touch of incisors scratched along his cock, making him yelp. "Watch the teeth."

"Sorry."

"You've never done this before, have you?" Zayn said, sitting up and staring at the pink-faced guy. "Oh, shit."

"I… I’m sorry. I… I gotta go," Jim said, hurriedly grabbing his clothes and putting them on.

"Wait. What’s wrong?" said Zayn asked as he pulled on his own boxers. "It's okay, man, really. It's no big deal. You should’ve told me you were…” Zayn dropped it when he saw that his words only got Jim more rattled.

“Look,” Zayn sighed, letting his hand rest on Jim shoulders as the guy tied up his shoes. “We're okay, right?"

Jim just silently nodded, his eyes consciously avoiding Zayn’s concerned stare. There were no more parting words, no awkward hug or handshake; it was just Zayn watching Jim walking out the door and Zayn closing it shut. “Fuck,” Zayn sighed as he banged his head on the wall, making him remember that his nose was still very much broken.


	2. Liam

Twenty-three and a virgin was something he never expected to be. At thirteen, Liam thought his twenty-three-year old self would've been married with kids of his own—twins named Violet and Klaus. At thirteen, Liam was so sure he didn't like boys, although the way his body reacted to the fit guys in his track team told him to rethink his principles. At twenty-three, Liam was fully convinced that he was fully gay and fully in need of a shag. This is why, on a random Saturday night, he was setting up a Grindr profile hoping to remedy the situation.

He had everything filled out: his age, height (5'10"), body type (muscular). All he needed was a good name. He browsed through the grid of headless torsos, most of which left their name fields blank. To him, that was just lazy. Some used a mix of emojis and symbols he had yet to decipher. Like what does a thumbs up banana even mean? Others, at least the few he was interested in, actually had monikers on their profiles. Too self-conscious to use Liam, he settled for James, his not-so-used second name. At the last minute, James became Jim before saving his profile. It was real face on the grid. It was the kind of irony that Liam didn’t notice.

Five minutes in and... nothing.

"You playin' that cat game again?"

"Yeah," Liam answered, hitting exit on his phone.

"Put the shite food out for Tubbs," said Niall, his roommate. The guy took up the empty spot on the couch beside him, a jar of cookies on his lap.

Liam watched as Niall shove two of the fist-sized chocolate-chipped goods in his mouth without much trouble or gagging, "Can I just say, it is amazing how you do that?"

"Innit?" said Niall while chewing.

"How do you not get fat?"

"Good genes. I’m lucky like that."

Liam shook his head, his attention back on the phone still in his hand.

"Speaking of luck, how's the Grindr situation?"

"What?"

"Grindr."

"What do you mean?"

Niall put the half-eaten cookie in his hand back in the jar and pulled out his own phone. After a series of taps, he turned it over for Liam to see his own face on screen.

"Why the bloody hell are you on Grindr?" asked Liam.

"Why should I not be on Grindr? It's fun. I'm actually glad you're on here. It’s time ya got that tension out."

"I am not tense."

"Mhmm," Niall mumbled through a mouthful of cookie, "I told ya before, I could help you out if you wanted."

"I'm not letting you blow me, Niall," Liam sighed. Niall did in fact offer, numerous times, all of which he rebuffed. It wasn’t that Niall was repulsive. In fact, Liam kind of fancied his flatmate. He had some charm to him, more than the Irish charm he got by default. It was his happy-go-luckiness that drew Liam in. And maybe also the way Niall looked every single time he came. Liam had that image practically seared into his brain after the many times he’d walked in on Niall busting a nut in different rooms and times in the flat.

The first time was when Liam went to brush his teeth one morning. Niall was already up in more ways than one. The bleach-blonde dude was sprawled on the couch with nothing but a white shirt on, not even bothering to muffle his moans as he stroked his cock quite… violently. Liam had no other way to put it. The thing was flushed a dark pink as Niall beat it vigorously and quickly. It stood out from the rest of his skin which was very pale in comparison. Liam’s eyes were glued to it, the wild mass of brown hair that surrounded it, the shiny precum that leaked out of its smooth round head. A string of profanities came rushing out Niall’s mouth as cum splattered all over his shirt and chin. It was matched by Liam’s sudden gasp, which made Niall look up and greet him with a satisfied good morning.

The many times that followed seemed more deliberate on Niall’s part. It was on the fifth or sixth time that Liam walked in on him that Niall asked Liam if he wanted to join in. Actually, as Liam recalled, Niall used the phrase, “If you can’t beat me, join me.” And he did. If a black light test were to be done on their couch, the whole thing would’ve probably glowed in the dark given the number of times they’d shot their respective loads on the thing. But despite all that, they had never done more than side-by-side wanks.

"Suit yourself," Niall said after a downing a glass of milk that seemed to have come out of thin air.

Liam scrolled through the wall of icons, brows furrowed, "Where are you here?"

Niall looked at Liam's screen and pointed to a pasty torso with a light dusting of brown hair. "Oh, right," Liam remembered Niall was a natural brunette. He should’ve gotten used to it by then, but the sight of his mate's naked torso still caused some stirring in his pants.

"I'll show you my dick pics, if you want."

"No thank you. I've seen it in person many, many times. I’m good."

"I insist. You need to take good ones yourself if you want to score."

"I don't think so, but I'll keep that in mind,” Liam said as he got up from the couch and retreated to his bedroom, “Goodnight, Niall."

"G'night, Li," he heard Niall say.

 

An hour and four dozen dick pics later, Liam was left a bit crushed. He had no idea what he was doing. He had tried different angles and different kinds of lighting but none of the snaps he took ever seemed good enough. His dick looked limp. In some, it looked short. If only there was a way to get everything in on screen without showing too much. It was a ding on his phone that got him to pause his mini photoshoot. 

"Sup?" was what it said.

"hi :)" Liam typed back, deciding to omit the smiley before hitting send.

Liam quickly checked the guy's profile. It was a black and white photo of a dude wearing a cap, lovely eyes framed by long lashes and bushy eyebrows. His facial hair lined what looked like face carved by the gods. This guy couldn't be real. Liam's eyes suddenly landed on a familiar logo on the screen.

"nice shirt. i have the same one," Liam typed out.

"U like Batman?"

"yeah" That was the understatement of the century. Liam had reeled it in so he didn't look like a dweeb in front of this stranger. First impressions were important, he knew that much.

"Which one? comics? movies? the animated series? Adam West?"

Liam's fingers trembled with excitement. This guy was a legitimate fan.

"all of the above ;)" he typed.

It was as if Liam had struck oil. Once they chipped off the top layer, the conversation gushed out and flowed from there. Z, the guy Liam was chatting with, was more engrossed with the comics than the other media, finding that the earlier films were too camp for his taste. Liam went on the offensive and defended the 90s films, claiming they paved the way for the genius that was the Dark Knight series. They debated that point until they agreed to disagree, deciding to move from Batman to the wider DC universe. And then DC became Marvel, and then Marvel became the Avengers, and then the Avengers became, well anything they could think of. He didn't realize how long he'd been exchanging comic book factoids with this guy until he got the next message.

"Hey, u up for fun?"

"what kind of fun?" he typed

"lol. U top or bttm?"

Liam paused for a second, weighing his options. He'd never done both so having to choose was a bit unnerving. On one hand he knew for a fact that he’d mess it up. But above anything, but on the other, he just really wanted to not be a virgin anymore. He was taking a lot of time to decide and he didn't want to lose the guy so in panic, he typed, "both"

"Cool ;)"

Before Liam knew it, he was seeing a photo of the guy in bed, looking as if he had just woken up, hair a beautiful mess, squinted eyes, and a slight pout of lips. He was shirtless, revealing a bunch of tattoos that overwhelmed Liam's senses. Another photo came after, one that forced Liam's dick to stand in full attention. He could see the guy's erect cock as he wielded it in his right hand. A heart tattoo rested just below his flat stomach, a tuft of dark hair snaking down his navel.

"Urs?"

Liam's heart raced. He wasn't sure about sending one of his dick pics to a guy he barely knew. He pulled off his shirt instead and took a snap he could be proud of and sent it before he lost his nerve.

"Wanna cum over?" was the response.

 

If things were ideal, Liam would've walked out of that apartment a happy ex-virgin. But much like many guys who've experienced their very first and very real casual fuck, he ended his night with a walk of shame. Liam, though, was convinced that his was more shameful than the rest. The guy’s scent had marked him like a bad tattoo—the lines of which were made of musk, sweat, and cigarettes. He felt the red bloom across his face as soon as he remembered how the guy forcefully tried to stifle a laugh after Liam had... finished, how he grimaced when Liam completely forgot the very first rule of giving head, and how he probably thought Liam was the lamest lay ever. If all hookups ended the way they just did, Liam did not want a repeat.

The cold was biting into his skin as he started jogging back to his apartment. He needed to sweat off the shame he had just endured. He broke the guy’s nose. He scraped him with his teeth. The guy’s fucking roommate saw him getting head for the very first time. He kept trying to shake off the embarrassment as he panted and crossed the street. By the time he reached their apartment, he was knocking on Niall's door, hoping he was still awake. A moment of stirring and muffled cursing later, a yawning Niall finally opened up, "Christ, Li. What time is it?"

"Can I blow you?"


	3. Niall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I planned to keep this story down to four parts, but I may have to extend it a bit. It all depends on your comments, though. If you'd like to see this story go further and have the characters fleshed out a bit more, tell me. I'm also thinking of changing the title since the focus is shifting. I don't know if that will affect bookmarks or anything like that. (Help, I am new here.) But if I do change it, do say if it's alright with you guys since you're the ones reading what I write.
> 
> Anyway, here's the third part. It's full of Niam. Hope you like is as much as I did writing it. Leave comments below, please! Thanks :D

“You’re late.”

Niall shrugged as he stuffed his bag in a locker and pulled off his shirt. That morning had been quite eventful, judging by the fading bruises on his skin. For a newbie at the art of anal fucking, Liam could get pretty rough, which was partly Niall’s fault. He told him to do it, “Harder. Fuck. Oh. Yeah. Fuck. Unf. Yeah. There. Fuck.” If his co-worker had anything to say about the subtle marks on his back, he didn’t mind. It was worth it.

 

“Can I blow you?”

“What?” Niall was expecting a fire or a severed limb or some other major emergency given the way Liam had rapped on his door. He scrambled out of bed, almost tripped while putting on pants, and fumbled on the knob. He wasn’t expecting a gloomy flatmate offering a 3 a.m. blowjob. It was too early for that kind of conversation, or at least too early for Niall’s sleep-dazed brain to process. Liam didn’t seem like he would repeat himself as he stood there, letting Niall’s question hang in between them. The guy looked distraught with his flared cheeks and eyes that showed a tug of war between begging and discomfort. Niall stepped aside and let him in, not expecting the way Liam’s hands would latch on his naked back and pull him in for a surprise kiss. The shock only lasted for a second when he realized that Liam’s tongue was grazing his. It was fire, and the heat of it spread through his body.

"Whoa," Niall said as he pulled away. "What's gotten into ya?"

No response.

Something was obviously wrong. Liam was never like this. He felt the guy melt into his touch as he wrapped his arms around him, gently patting his back.

“Want to talk about it?” Niall whispered as he let Liam step into his room. The guy sat on the edge of his bed, his face in his hands. Whether it was because of shame or fatigue, Niall didn’t exactly know. "Guessin' your Grindr hookup didn't go well?"

No answer.

"Nothin' to be ashamed of. They don't usually do. But hey, at least you're no longer a virgin."

A long groan escaped from Liam, making Niall laugh as he took a spot beside his best mate. He ran a hand down Liam's back, massaging the tense muscles there. "You want to blow me?"

"Forget I said that," Liam answered with a sigh, hands going back to his sides as he avoided Niall's gaze.

"Aww, that got me a bit excited there for a moment," Niall said, making Liam chuckle.

"Was it really that bad?"

"Tremendously."

"You cum?"

"Yeah."

"Couldn't be that bad then."

"He didn't get to, though."

"Aww, didn't know you were that considerate."

"Shut up," Liam pouted.

Niall laughed as Liam laid back on his bed, him following suit. "You kiss great though. I'm actually surprised."

"Apparently, I'm a quick learner," Liam said, making Niall's eyebrow twitch with curiosity.

"What happened?"

"I don't want to remember anything."

"Come on, just give me little details. Did you get to fuck him?"

"I... I kind of came before we could get to fucking," Liam said, mumbling the last bits.

"It was that hot, huh? Christ, you're lucky," Niall said.

"It was embarrassing. I think I even broke his nose."

"What the fuck were you guys doing? The kama sutra?"

"Long story."

"I bet."

After a long pause, Niall heard Liam say something he now knew wasn't a joke: "Can I give you a blowjob?"

"You mean right now?" Niall said, turning his head towards Liam.

"Yeah," the boy said, puppy eyes doing their thing.

It was time to put up or shut up. Of the many times Niall offered Liam sexual favors throughout the course of their friendship, never in his life did he actually think the guy would accept. He’d considered it a running joke between them. Sexual banter between mates didn’t hurt anyone, he thought, especially mates who often get off together. Niall had to admit, the idea of finally doing more with Liam made his body thrum with excitement—if that kiss was a preview of what was to come, he definitely wanted to see how much more Liam could give—but his mate wasn’t in the right state, and so was he. They both looked tired. Liam was visibly still reeling from a nightmare of a hookup. Niall, on the other hand, needed to wake up in a couple of hours for an early shift at the bistro. The timing just wasn’t right.

“Tempting,” Niall said, thumbing his own chin as if in deep contemplation. Liam knew him that well to know that he was just teasing. “I’ll think about it and tell you if I’m good with that. But for now, I think I can settle for a good cuddle. I’m knackered,” Niall yawned.

Liam seemed to agree with a yawn of his own. Niall watched him nod and began undressing. They had done this before, seek each other’s warmth. It was so platonic, two best mates cuddling from time to time. Niall would be lying if he said he didn’t get off from the thought of Liam’s naked body beside him. The guy was fit, and sweet, and secretly kinky—a side that only Niall had seen. There were times when Niall would wake up with a raging stiffy that he’d have to force himself to beat off in the shower before Liam even noticed he got out of bed.

“Goodnight, Niall” Liam said as he slipped under the covers, his arm snaking over Niall’s bare chest. It didn’t take long before he started snoring.

“G’night, Li,” Niall whispered.

 

It was five years earlier when Niall met Liam. He remembered seeing a mess of brown curls and bushy eyebrows greet him in a quiet elevator ride up their building. The guy was drowning in fabric, several layers of shirts and warmers topped off by a thick jacket and a woolly scarf. Niall, on the other hand, was freezing in his thin jumper. Both were looking for a cheap place to rent out. Faced with a flat with two rooms but only half of the budget needed to afford it, they both decided to move in with each other and see how things went. They’d been pretty good since, quickly hitting it off on day one.

Liam, kept to himself most of the time. He was nice, incredibly so, doing little things for Niall without asking, like cooking dinners, keeping things tidy, keeping him company when he clearly felt down. Niall remembered the time Liam came out to him. It was a funny matter, considering that both of them had no idea that the other was gay until Liam had walked in on him beating it to a video of three guys in the throes of what looked like a double-stuffed ass. Getting caught was hot, Niall thought. He always had some kind of voyeuristic kink. He was surprised it took Liam that long to open up the possibility of sex between them.

The guy was a virgin when they met, and Niall was in awe of that. He always thought it admirable for Liam to have that much self-restraint. Niall had been seeing guys since he left home, so the thought of being around someone that innocent was refreshing to him. This was why the moment he spotted Liam’s face on Grindr had made him feel a mix of things, mostly excitement to see his friend expand his sexual horizons and jealousy. He didn’t know why, but he felt that he had claim to Liam. Whatever they did in the confines of their flat, it was theirs. No other guy had ever seen Liam in that debauched state.

If Niall was being honest, he often got off to the image of Liam stroking himself beside him rather than the videos they played on their flatscreen. There were times he’d zone out and wondered what Liam’s lips would feel like around his own cock. Those tentative licks spurred by curiosity. Those plush pink lips around his shaft. Hollowed cheeks. Brown eyes staring up at him. Niall moaned to the thought. He could feel his cock all wet and hot in Liam’s mouth. It was Liam moaning around him that made him realize that—

“Fuck,” Niall gasped as he woke up in the dim room, the slurping sounds of spit-slicked cock and tightened lips had filled it. Liam was doing well, really well, sucking out another moan from Niall. “Yeah,” Niall whispered, running his fingers on the back of Liam’s head.

Their eyes met in the dark, Liam’s looking eager to please.

“You’re so good,” Niall said as Liam popped off and replaced his lips with a deft right hand.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

 

Liam was overwhelming, from the way he kissed to the way he took charge. Whatever Grindr horror story he had shared earlier, Niall no longer believed it. The guy did learn pretty fast. Since he was still new to all this, Niall had told him to take his time, teaching him where to touch, how to slick him up, how to hold off when he felt his release coming. All he needed were the basics to get things really going. Niall realized this when Liam flipped him over and started banging him from behind. Niall’s head was pressed against his pillow, feeling Liam everywhere: The sound of his legs slapping against his ass. His grunts and moans. Liam’s sweat spilling onto his back. His fingers digging into his sides. His thick cock hitting him just the right way, over and over.

“Harder,” Niall moaned as Liam obeyed immediately, thrusts getting meaner and deeper.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heard Liam say before pulling Niall up against him, marking up his neck. The change in angle making Niall yelp. It was getting too much, too hot.

“I’m so close,” Liam whispered as he pressed his lips against Niall’s sweat-slicked skin.

“Let me taste it.”

His words made Liam pull out, jerking off in a rush. Niall got himself ready on the bed. Liam tossed the condom aside, letting Niall crawl up to him and line up his tongue for the first shot. Niall didn’t know what to expect. The first string had hit the back of his throat, warm and heavy. The second and third came in waves that almost choked him as it flooded down his throat. The rest soon followed in strong and frequent spurts, coating his tongue with the thick taste of salt and bleach, a minor inconvenience for a great reward. Liam was shuddering as Niall took it upon himself to suck out what he couldn’t spew, eliciting moans that turned into ragged and satisfied breaths.

“You lied,” Niall said as he lay down beside his sated friend. “You’re great in bed.”

Liam only laughed as he slowly regained his composure.

“Delete Grindr,” Niall continued. “Just keep fucking me instead.”

Another laugh. It was so infectious, Niall joined in.

“Hey,” Liam said after a beat, “You didn’t get off.”

Liam was on him before he could even respond.

 

“Rough night?”

“You can say that,” Niall smirked. He pulled on his vest and then swiftly adjusted the cuffs of his starched white shirt. An hour late was kind of a big deal given that Sundays were always the busiest at the bistro. He peered into the mirror, checking his hair and his teeth. His co-worker was scrolling through his phone behind him before putting it back in his locker.

“What happened to your nose?” Niall asked, noticing the tiny bump on his co-worker’s face.

“Nothing. Was just goofing around and hit it… Oh, big mister bossman was looking for you earlier. I got you covered, though,” his co-worker winked as he tossed Niall a clean dish towel.

“Thanks, Zayn.”

“No problem. See you out there. And avoid table three. Give that to Styles.”

“Right,” Niall laughed.


	4. Zayn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, after nine months since the last chapter... an update. Sorry about that. Life has been crazy. Does that make me a bad writer? I'll write more frequently if you guys tell me you want more. Also, do tell me how you think the story is progressing so far. Do you like it? Cheers! :)

Harry fucking Styles was on a roll, literally. He was lying on it, crumbs and all, after tripping on his own two feet with a bread basket in hand. Zayn and Niall were in stitches as they repeatedly tried and failed to pull up the kid off the floor. This was apparently what happened when three waiters ingest an entire pot of brewed cannabis in the middle of Sunday tea. Their manager was miffed, to say the least, when a table of old ladies called him over to complain about the rowdy hooligans who were supposed to be bringing over their scones. He had sent the lads to the back room to right themselves before the next shift rolled in.

“I hate you,” Harry said, changing into a cleaner uniform.

“Mate, that was your tea.”

Sometimes Zayn thought the boy was from another planet, an alien who hadn’t yet mastered how to walk on land and function as a regular human being. He was peculiar, always happy and dazed. Perhaps it was the constant flow of psychoactive chemicals in his bloodstream. The boy was lucky his uncle owned the place or he wouldn’t have lasted the month.

“Good stuff, though,” Niall yawned as he lay down on their locker room bench. He’d been seconds to dozing off for most of the day, Zayn had noticed. It must’ve been some really good lay he had the night before. Zayn would’ve said the same thing for himself if that Jim guy hadn’t cum and gone in a rush. It had left him with blue balls and head full of questions. No other guy had ever ditched Zayn before. No one. He mulled over that thought the whole night as he nursed his bruised nose.

Louis had found him asleep on the couch at around 7 a.m. with a melted ice pack stuck to his face. They had talked for a while, Louis thanking him for setting him up with his clumsy co-worker. Why he had let that happen, he didn’t really know. If he had known his roommate would share every graphic detail of their tryst—including Harry’s obscene cock that apparently curved down, a mental image Zayn wanted bleached from his brain—he would have never introduced them at all. Zayn begged off in the middle of Louis’s vivid recounting of the way Harry’s cum had spewed like creamy lava, and quickly locked himself in the safety of his own bedroom.

Finding his phone, he had tried once again to search for Jim on Grindr. He had done it the night before, wanting to check up on the guy about an hour or so after he left the flat. It took him that long, thinking it was a desperate move on his part to send the guy a message without giving him a head start. Zayn was never desperate over his hookups, no matter how good they were. That morning, he just logged on to see if Jim was online. He didn’t really have a clear plan of action with it. Maybe he wanted to ask him out, if not for another round of imperfect sex, just for coffee. But the guy had disappeared as abruptly as he had surfaced. Jim had probably blocked him. With a sigh, Zayn accepted that that was the end of that.

By the time he clocked out, Zayn was itching for a cold pint and a steaming bowl of haleem from the food market a couple of blocks away. He pulled up the hood of his parka over his head and started walking. Winter was fleeting but the chill in the air still stung his skin. He was in dire need of warming up. Hopping over a fence, he quickly made his way down a cobbled alley—one of the many shortcuts he always took on the way. It was peaceful, less crowded, perfect for a smoke. But the grumbling in his stomach was stronger than his need for nicotine, beckoning him to turn that next corner and—“Oof!”

Zayn was sure he hadn’t hit his head when he fell on the street, but right in front of him was a giant waking fish stick, or rather a guy in a fish stick costume extending an arm to pull him up. It was only then when the two had met eye to eye that it dawned on them—“You!”

Instead of beer and chicken stew, Zayn found himself digging into a plate of greasy chips and refried haddock. Jim from Grindr was still busy handing out flyers to passersby in front of the shop. He was a giant fish stick, an image that still had parts of Zayn thrumming both from the ridiculousness of Jim’s costume and the sheer coincidence of them meeting at a chip shop in the middle of Chelsea. Zayn was uneasy. He didn’t know if it was wise for him to do what he did, a spur of the moment thing when he asked Jim if he wanted to have a coffee then and there. And this was why Zayn was killing time, forcing himself to take another bite of fish.

“Hey,” Jim said, walking into the shop, still dressed as an oversized finger snack. “Let me just change and we can go, yeah?”

Zayn nodded and watched him disappear at the back. He still had time to walk out if he wanted to, just disappear and never look back, save themselves from further embarrassment. Jim obviously didn’t want him there, judging by the way his eyes turned into saucers when he realized whose hand he was pulling up. But there was also something in those big brown eyes that drew Zayn in, but what in particular, he’d still have to find out.

“Ready to go?”

 

Coffee was stalled for another round of Tekken in a nearby arcade. The guy’s Xiaoyu was decimating his Kazuya, six-nil.

“Now that’s just unfair,” Zayn said as his character flew off to the edge of the screen after a barrage of punches and kicks. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jim smirking. Whatever awkwardness they had had dissipated from their button mashing.

“You’re just shit at this.”

“Quilt,” Zayn muttered.

“I heard that,” Jim said as he delivered a definitive K.O.

 

“Is it easy being a fish stick?”

Jim paused, taking a leisurely sip from his coffee cup, “No.”

Zayn merely nodded as he blew a puff of smoke in the London air. “Then why do it? Wouldn’t you be, like, something else? Like, a sausage or somethin’?”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling at the sides, the moonlight hitting his face just right to make them more prominent. It was the cheesiest image, Zayn thought—this beautiful guy laughing at his stupid joke as they shared take-away coffees and cigarettes on a bridge overlooking the Thames.

“There aren’t many sausage shops around here,” Jim said. “I just go where I’m needed. I’m a temp guy. What do you do?”

“I wait tables at some restaurant.”

“Cool. My best mate’s a waiter himself. Tough job.”

“It pays the rent,” Zayn said, flicking what’s left of his cigarette into flowing water below.

“Why’d you do that?” Jim tutted, looking offended.

“What? There are no bins here.”

The answer seemed to have Jim placated as he went back to sipping his coffee.

“I was wondering,” Zayn paused, getting Jim’s attention, “If you’d, like, be interested in coming back to mine?”

“After last time?”

“Yeah, but, like, it doesn’t have to be anything. We can just chill, play video games and whatnot. Just, don’t go runnin’ off like the last time.”

Zayn wanted to eat his words. Even under moonlight, he could see Jim’s open expression retreat into something unreadable.

“About that,” the guy said, “I need to apologize.”

“I get it, okay? I understand. I just thought it’d be cool if we were mates, summat.”

 

Mates, Zayn learned, apparently liked to kiss. A few minutes into FIFA, he found himself getting lost in the feeling of Jim’s tongue pressing against his. It was better than he remembered... way better. If this went on, he wanted to know if the other stuff got better too. But it didn’t. As Zayn’s hands started slipping under the guy’s shirt, it was also the exact moment Louis walked in.

“Good evening, lads. Don’t mind me. I’ve seen this before,” he said, casually tossing his shoes aside and walking barefoot around the flat.

“You’re a wanker!” Zayn yelled as his mate disappeared into his room.

“So are you, sweetums,” he heard from the other room.

“Sorry about that,” Zayn said, feeling a strong wave of deja vu consume him.

“It’s fine,” Jim said, getting off from the couch and picking up his stuff, “I have to go.”

“Yeah,” Zayn said as he accompanied him to the door.

“Thanks for having me over. It was nice.”

“It was,” he smiled, “Is it okay if I get your number?”

He could see the guy hesitate a bit before finally agreeing. Zayn started typing digits as Jim dictated them one by one. “Um, is your name really Jim?”

“It’s kind of stupid, really. I used it on Grindr because my real name’s James. Well, my second name is. I’m Liam.”

“Liam, right,” Zayn smiled. “I’m Zayn.”

“Yeah, I know. You told me earlier at the cafe.”

“Right,” Zayn blushed.

“Here.” Liam took Zayn’s phone and gave himself a ring. “I’ll save your number if you don’t mind. That’s Zayn with a ‘Y’?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, goodnight, Zayn.”

“Goodnight, Liam.”


	5. Niall and Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yasss! A new installment! As always, please leave a comment and tell me what you think Cheers! :D

"Oh. Ugh. I thought you said you could cook?" Niall asked, spitting out a chunk of slightly raw chicken into the bin.

"I said I  _ can _ cook. I didn't say I was good at it."

“That chicken needs more time.”

“Right,” said Harry, putting back the parma-wrapped breast into boiling oil.

“You can just order out, y’know? I’m sure that guy won’t even notice.”

“It’s the principle of it, Niall,” Harry explained, kitchen tongs wagging in his hand, spilling hot oil onto the floor. “I told Louis I would make him a home-cooked meal, and I intend to deliver on that promise.”

“Right,” Niall said, stepping back to fridge to get another bottle of Guinness.

Harry’s kitchen was a right mess. The countertop was littered with grated cheese and the traces of the mash he and Niall managed to save after the bowl had toppled over somewhere in between Harry stuffing raw chicken breasts and him twirling about in the small room. Niall was Harry’s last-minute dinner guest, but there was no way he was cleaning that up.

“So tell me about this Louis friend of yours,” Niall said in between sips of beer.

“He’s rather cute… No. I mean handsome. He’s very manly and handsome. He’s got these really beautiful blue eyes—”

“I’ve got beautiful blue eyes,” Niall said, batting his lashes.

Harry paused to look at Niall. “You do, but Louis has this really great butt—firm, round, really soft, you know?” And if adjectives weren’t enough, Harry demonstrated the heft of it with his hands, as if he was fondling them midair.

“Uh, Harry, I think your chicken’s burning.”

“Noooo!”

 

Dinner was supposed to be Niall and Liam splitting a bucket of fried chicken on the couch of their own flat. And maybe after, a continuation of their early morning explorations of each other. But Liam had other plans, as Niall discovered on his way out of the bistro.

“Hello, Mr. Fish stick, what’s up?” Niall said as he put on his coat.

“Hi Ni. Ummm. I know we have plans…”

“Yeah. I’m on my way to KFC now, but I was thinking maybe Nando’s would be—”

“About that… Uhhh…”

“Yeah?” Niall asked as he stepped out the main door, Harry right behind him.

“Can we reschedule? Something came up. New temp assignment.”

“It’s 10pm.”

“Yeah... It’s kind of a late night pub thing.”

“Cool. I can come over. I can get a pint.”

“Uhhh… It’s an exclusive thing. You can’t get in.”

“You can sneak me in like always, eh?” Niall said, smiling over the phone, wagging his eyebrows even though Liam couldn’t see.

“Not this time. Look, I have to go. I’ll see you at the flat, yeah?”

“Alright,” said Niall as Liam hung up.

“Something wrong?”

Niall looked up to see that Harry was still standing beside him. “Nah. Just canceled plans.”

“Would you care for some chicken?”

“Sure. Do you want Nando’s?”

“Not exactly. I have this great recipe where I stuff a chicken with mozzarella and wrap it in—”

“You’re cooking?”

“Yeah, I can cook. I’d like to think I’m very good with a—”

“Great. Let’s go.”

“I’m having a friend over as well.”

“The more the merrier. Do you have beer?”

“Yes.”

“Lead the way.”

 

“This is wonderful,” said Louis, taking another bite of Harry’s chicken and mash.

“Thank you,” Harry tried not to blush from the seat beside him.

Niall knew it was an outright lie on Louis’s part. The chicken was dried out, the ham tougher than rubber, and the cheese burnt through. It must’ve been the wine that dulled the guy’s tastebuds. The two were sharing a cheap bottle of pinot grigio while Niall settled for his seventh bottle of Guinness of the night. He made a mental note to buy Harry a new case.

“I’ll get another beer,” Niall said.

“Is your friend an alcoholic?” Louis leaned over to Harry and whispered as Niall made his way to the fridge.

“Irish.”

“Ah.”

“You looking to get pissed tonight?” Louis asked as Niall popped open another cap.

“A bit, yeah.”

“He was ditched,” Harry whispered.

“I heard that,” Niall said as he took a swig as he focused on Harry. “Is this a date?”

“What?”

“Did you invite me to your date?”

Two pairs of blue eyes were on Harry, both full of confused curiosity.

“Ummm… Yeah. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” said Louis, before stuffing his mouth with a heaping spoon of mash.

“I was a nervous,” Harry said. “Last time was great. And I didn’t want to screw this up like I normally do. I was just thinking, at least if anything went wrong, I mean, at least someone could help me out?”

“So I’m your fall guy?” Niall said, putting his beer down.

“It’s not like that at all.”

“Ditched and a fall guy,” Niall said.

“Well, this is awkward,” said Louis after downing a full glass of wine.

“Cheers!” said Niall before doing the same with his beer.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, young Harold. This was a wonderful meal.”

Niall snorted at that.

“Are you quite finished being rude?” Louis snapped.

“Sorry, mate. Just continue flirting. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Do you guys want dessert? It’s store-bought this time so you can actually eat it,” Harry smiled, trying and failing to diffuse the tension.

 

“Look, whoever this guy is, fuck him! Fuck that wanker!” Louis said as he cradled a drunken Niall’s head on his shoulder. Both were seated on the couch, wine and beer bottles left empty on the table, as Harry attempted to exorcise his kitchen of pre-dinner filth. “If you were really something to him, he’d show up.”

“No. He’s busy. I’m just being irrational. Besides, it’s not like you can fall in love after a casual fuck. We were just having fun.”

“That’s actually very possible,” said Louis, checking to see if Harry was eavesdropping.

“I’m not in love with him. I’m just saying… I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“You are royally pissed.”

“I don’t get drunk.”

“Mate, you just finished a whole case of Guinness, and you barely ate a thing. I’m pretty sure you are.”

“No, I’m not. I’m Irish,” Niall slurred.

“Mhmmm, you do know that stereotype means nothing, right?” said Louis as Harry walked in with a blanket.

“You’re staying over tonight, Niall.”

“Need to go home.”

“Not like that you are,” said Harry.

Louis helped Niall lie down as Harry tucked him in like a proper human burrito. In seconds, Niall had retreated to quiet snoring.

“Awww, look at our little boy, all grown up,” joked Louis as he kissed Harry on the cheek.

“Tell me the truth,” Harry said, peering into Louis’s eyes, “Did you like dinner?”

“It was shite, to be completely honest, but it was wonderful,” Louis smiled, making Harry doing the same. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, please.”

Harry kissed Louis goodnight and closed the door. He bid Niall goodnight as well as he retreated to his own room and turned off the lights.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second piece of fic here. If you enjoyed it, do leave a comment or a kudos, and I promise to write more. Constructive criticism is also highly encouraged.


End file.
